


Matched

by KTBass



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Quidditch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2014-10-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 17:17:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2356298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KTBass/pseuds/KTBass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose Weasley doesn't have time to be dragged to Quidditch matches. She certainly doesn't have time to be dragged to Quidditch matches featuring Scorpius Malfoy. No, she's much better off hiding in the basement of St. Mungo's and working on the potion she's devoted her life to since before leaving Hogwarts. Isn't she?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kenmare Kestrels, W, 470-350

Rose Weasley had never cared about Quidditch. She enjoyed watching and she knew the rules (which was more than her mum could say), but she didn’t live and breathe for matches and bludgers and snitches. But her family did and she cared about her family, so at Hogwarts she’d cheered on Lily as a chaser; she’d shouted for James when he was in front of the hoops; and she’d routinely attended Slytherin games and tried very, very hard not to laugh when poor Hugo was routinely crushed playing seeker. It was a running joke in the family, Rose’s ambivalence for the sport. And yet, in spite of her famous indifference, Al would not stop pestering her to come to a Falcons match and watch Scorpius Malfoy play seeker.

“You’ve been promising for months,” Al whined at her from across the little table in her parents’ kitchen after their weekly tea.

“Promising is not the word I’d choose,” she replied, not looking up from the research parchment she was reading.

“You said – ”

“I _said_ that I would take it under advisement.”

“Come on, Rose. Just come to a game with me. It’ll be fun.”

“Fun for whom?” she asked.

“For you! You never go anywhere.”

“I go places,” she said indignantly, but before she could continue Al barked a laugh.

“Oh sure. You go to your flat. You go to St. Mungo’s. You go to Flourish and Blotts. You go to – ”

“I was down the pub with you lot last week!” she said, dropping her paper.

Al raised his eyebrows. “You stayed for half an hour. You had a butterbeer. You left. James and Fred made fun of you for leaving so early longer than you were actually there!”

She sighed. “I’ve been busy.”

“Busy being boring.”

“Al!” she exclaimed, and she tried to hide her hurt by taking a gulp of tea. “You know that – ”

“Your work is very important. Course I know. You never let me forget it. Neither does Uncle Ron.”

“It _is_ important,” she replied, sulkily.

“You’ve been obsessed with your bloody research and your bloody potion for three and a half years. I feel like I’ve barely seen you since Hogwarts, Rose. And barely even then.”

“You’re seeing me now.”

“I meant somewhere besides our parents’ houses. Somewhere without the rest of the cousins. I miss my best mate.”

“Scorpius is your best mate,” she pointed out. Her words weren’t exactly bitter, but Rose knew that Al was her only real friend and part of her missed the part of their childhood when she’d been his only real friend as well.

“Scorpius is my _other_ best mate.”

“The whole point of a best mate is you can’t have two,” she said, pursing her lips.

“It’s not my fault you went and got sorted into ruddy Ravenclaw!”

“Why does it have to be the match, Al? I’ll do anything else.”

“Why not the match? You like Quidditch just fine!” Al protested. “It’s bollocks. You and Scorpius would get along really well if you’d just get your head out of your arse.”

Rose snorted. “Because I’ve got so much in common with an international quidditch star with flobberworms for brains.”

“He hasn’t got flobberworms for brains and you know it.”

Rose looked down. He was right, of course. Scorpius didn’t have flobberworms for brains. He’d been head boy and had trounced her in transfiguration every single year they were at school. He’d gotten almost as many OWLs as she had, and would probably have had as many NEWTs if he hadn’t dropped half his course load for Quidditch.

Al stood abruptly, frowning down at her. “Merlin, Rose, I don’t know why I bothered.”

“But – ”

“No. Forget it. I don’t know what your problem with Scorpius is, I really don’t and – ”

“He’s _your_ friend, Al, not mine – ”

“I don’t give a bloody damn. If you _had_ any friends, I’d at least make the effort for your sake!”

Rose went cold at his words, her mouth gaping open. Tears welled in her eyes as she stared at Al, who looked possibly more shocked by what he’d said than she was.

“Rosie,” he said softly. “I shouldn’t have said it like that. But you can’t lock yourself away forever. The rest of the cousins have given up, but I’m not going to. The match is next Friday. I’ve got box seats. Just give your name and they’ll let you up.”

Rose could barely look at him as he swung a deep crimson cloak over his shoulders, fastening the clasp as he walked to her side. He bent down and brushed a kiss to the top of her head. “Sorry I’m such a git. Love you,” he whispered, and then he was gone, leaving her with her face buried in her hands.

* * *

When Rose stepped into the box the following Friday, sporting a midnight blue cloak and dutifully carrying a gray and white Falcons pendant, she glanced around anxiously. She was giving serious thought to turning and fleeing back down the stairs when Al turned around. His face lit up so bright that all her anger and nervous anticipation seemed to evaporate, leaving her jelly-legged. He bounded across the box, picking her up and spinning her around with a whoop of joy.

“You came! You came even though I was a colossal pillock!”

It felt like such a relief to laugh – like she hadn’t done so in weeks, and maybe she hadn’t. “Yes, I came. And, yes, you _were_ a colossal pillock. But then, when aren’t you?”

“Come on, I saved us the best seats,” he said with a wink, sweeping his arm expansively across the box. It was small, just two rows of two chairs each, and she remembered Al telling her that Scorpius had chosen one of the smaller boxes knowing that other players had bigger families to accommodate. “You can borrow my omnioculars.”

“Al,” she said, still smiling so broadly her face was starting to hurt, “I only came to - how did you phrase it? - to make an effort for your sake.”

He groaned, slumping down in his seat. “I’m never going to hear the end of this am I?”

“What? You mean calling your so-called favorite cousin a friendless loser?”

“That’s not what I said,” he muttered, but Rose could tell by the pink tinge to his ears that he was pleased she was back to teasing him.

“Are James and Lily coming? Not like them to let free tickets go to waste.”

“They’re not allowed to sit in the box,” Al said smugly.

“Why not?” she asked, scanning the crowd.

“Because Scorpius says this box is for his friends and that anyone who isn’t a Falcon is an enemy.”

“You know I root for the Cannons, right?” she laughed.

“Please Rose,” Al said loftily. “You don’t _root_ for the Cannons; you display an admirable but misguided filial loyalty to Uncle Ron’s lost cause. _James_ is a Wasp, which is pathetic enough. But Lily playing for Puddlemere?”

“So no rival players in Scorpius’s special space?”

“Of course not. Bad for the image, you know,” spoke a cool voice from behind them.

“Scorpius!” Al jumped to his feet, sliding an arm around his best friend’s shoulder. “She came. I told you I’d wear her down eventually.”

Scorpius just raised one eyebrow at Rose, the corner of his mouth tilting up. He looked amused, almost but not quite mocking. “So you did and so I see.”

For a moment, all she could do was stare. She hadn’t seen Scorpius Malfoy outside of the pages of the Prophet since they graduated, but it was strartling to realize just how much she remembered: his cool gray eyes, always assessing; the casual dishevelment of his perpetually windblown silvery blond hair; the way he seemed to tower over everyone in the room, and not just in height. The punch to the gut that seeing him brought was hardly new, but it felt different this time in a way that sent a shiver of fear through her. Rose felt her cheeks heat, and her first impulse was to nod and stare into her lap. Instead, she stood and gave Scorpius a wobbly smile. “Thanks for having me.”

“See you after, Al?” Scorpius slugged Al on the shoulder and completely ignored Rose as he disapparated from the box with a crack.

“You can disapparate out but not apparate in,” Al said absently, not noticing her frown.

Rose collapsed back in her seat, staring blankly out across the pitch as players in gray and white robes poured out for the introductory lap. She didn’t watch Scorpius appear, instead fiddling with the controls of Al’s omnioculars.

“You’re coming, right? After?” Al asked absently, waving down a butterbeer vendor.

She took a deep breath before saying in a surprisingly even voice, “I wasn’t invited.”

“Ignore him” he countered simply. He slid the omnioculars from her hands to watch the Kestrels zoom onto the pitch in their emerald robes.

Rose, glad Al had been successfully distracted, turned her attention back to the pitch, and, if she was being honest, to Scorpius. His appointment to the Gryffindor team had been the first time a first year had been selected for a house squad since her Uncle Harry, and Al had told her in confidence that England had tried to recruit him before the start of their seventh year. She still remembered Hugo’s angry mortification when Scorpius caught the snitch right in front of his face less than ten minutes into a match in her fifth year.

She knew he was amazing, so she was flabbergasted by how terribly he was flying. He fell for a _wronski feint_ , almost crashing into the lower level stands; he almost missed the snitch twice, saved only by supreme beating from his increasingly flustered teammates; he was hit by a bludger so hard he almost fell off his broom. Next to her, Al was beside himself.

“Has he been jinxed?” he asked incredulously as Scorpius almost flew into the path of one of his chasers. “He must have been jinxed.”

A timeout was taken by the Falcons. Pulling the omnioculars from Al’s grip, Rose searched the pitch for Scorpius. He was sitting on a bench at the sideline, scowling down at his hands as the rest of his team huddles nearby, watching him warily. She bit her lip as he stood, knuckles white around his broomstick, and kicked the pitch.

Suddenly, his eyes were on their box and she almost dropped the omnioculars. There was a simmering fury that set her heart pounding, but instead of looking away she picked up her Falcons flag from her lap and gave a little wave. He paused, brow furrowing, and she watched the tension drain out of him. He rolled his eyes and shrugged.

The whistle blew and Al snatched the omnioculars from her grip so that all she saw was a great gray and white blur as the team took to the air.

Scorpius caught the snitch two minutes later, and the Falcons won 470-350.

* * *

“I really don’t think I was invited,” Rose protested as Al dragged her across a small street in Mayfair to Scorpius’s flat. “And I came to the match. You never said anything about – ”

“You’re invited,” Al said.

“I’m not really up for people, Al.”

Al chuckled as he unfolds the grating and pushes her toward Scorpius’s door. “He’s not up for people after a match, either. Especially not after a match like that one. Not, of course, that I’ve ever _seen_ him play a match like that one.”

With another wave of his wand, Al let them into Scorpius’s flat. Rose looked around, taken aback by the sunlight streaming in through uncovered windows and the odd collection of green armchairs scattered around a room that was, otherwise, wall to wall bookshelves.

“Potter?” Scorpius called from the back of the flat. “I’ve got curry takeaway and the biggest bottle of firewhiskey galleons can buy. I’m considering drowning myself in it after - ”

He stopped abruptly as he rounded the corner and saw Rose.

“Told you I wasn’t invited,” Rose said quietly, unable to hold Scorpius’s gaze.

“Bollocks,” Scorpius exhaled, giving the bottle of firewhiskey in his hand a look of deep longing.

“I think I’m going to go.” Rose spoke to the floor, hating the meekness in her tone.

“Rose, stay,” Al begged. “Please.”

“Thanks for inviting me, Al. Congratulations on the win, Scorpius.”

Before Al could grab hold of her robes, she darted out the door. She was almost back to the lift when she heard Al’s shout.

“Dammit, Malfoy, what the bloody hell was that?”

 


	2. Holyhead Harpies, W, 640-200

For the week following the match, Rose went back to her life in the basement of St. Mungo’s. She brewed healing draughts and other medicinal potions for the healers; she checked on the processes of several more complex potions; and, mostly, she worked on the wolfsbane modification she’d been dreaming of since her third year at Hogwarts. She did _not_ obsess about Scorpius’s behavior before and after his damn match. She did not ponder over and over again why the hurt that she thought she’d left behind at Hogwarts remained. And she certainly did not think of the subtle smirk he’d worn when he first saw her in his box.

It was harder than she wanted it to be, to lose herself in her work and her research and her potions. Usually it was easy to shut out the world, even her family, when she was up to her ears in steam and had a very fussy brewing process to work through. She was so used to barely remembering to eat, to apparating home every night and collapsing into bed in a frizzy haired heap, that she was at a total loss as to what to do with herself in such a distracted state.

Al gave her five days before there was a knock at the door and he poked his head into, as he had always insisting on calling it, her dungeon. Her nose wrinkled at the sight of him. “Oh, it’s you.”

“It’s me,” he said cheerfully, ignoring the scowl spreading across her face. “You’ve not been answering my owls.”

“Have you sent owls?” she asked, feigning disinterest. Poor Osiris, Al’s hawk owl, had been beside himself when she hadn’t written a response to Al’s last note.

“No point playing coy with me. Your mum tried to tell me that owls aren’t allowed on this level, but Aunt Hermione must be losing her touch because I sent Osiris to your flat.”

“You checked up on me with my _mum_?”

“Had to, really. Anyway. Lucky for me, good looking wizards with an abundance of charm and a shocking resemblance to one of the biggest heroes in wizarding history are allowed wherever they want to go, so here I am.”

“An abundance of arrogance, more like.” Unable to hide a smile, she turned back to her potion. “What do you want, Al? I’m busy. This potion is delicate and – ”

“This is for you,” he said, pushing a folded piece of parchment across to her. She didn’t recognize the silver sealing wax, but she could guess who sent it. Her stomach gave a little flutter, and she frowned down at the parchment.

“What is it?”

“It’s a tea cozy,” Al said wryly.

“Don’t be a git,” she said, still staring at it. “Why’s he making you be messenger?”

“I don’t have all day to stand around while you wrestle your inner demons, Rose. It’s just a letter. Open it. Read it. See you on Friday,” he called over his shoulder as he disappeared out the door.

“Friday?” she shouted after him, but he was already gone, leaving her alone with a note she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to open.

Strange really, how Scorpius’s ambivalence toward her at school had been an annoyance but now it felt like a personal affront. Then, when he’d been Head Boy and quidditch captain and she’d spent all of her time in the dungeons with Professor Moon, she had written him off as belonging to another world, one she’d willingly taken no part in, having removed herself from the running for prefect and, later, head girl, so she would have more time to spend in the dungeons.

It was stranger still that she should care so much when she herself had been perfectly content ignoring him since they’d disembarked from the Hogwarts Express for the very last time. At least, she’d told herself she was.

Still frowning, she reached for the note, breaking the seal and unfolding it. Scrawled across the parchment in vivid green ink were the words _Try again?_ She stared at it, almost dropping it when she was startled by a metallic clink against her work table’s surface. She looked down to see a small tin button. When she touched it, a speech bubble appeared with the words _Scorpius Malfoy is a prat_.

Pulling out her wand and standing well back, she tapped the badge. “Scorpius Malfoy is a prat?” she whispered, hoping that her instinct to trust him had been correct.

At once, the button transformed into a soft, dove gray cloak trimmed in a white and dark gray tweed, its clasp formed out of a delicate silver falcon clutching a snitch. She gasped, snatching the soft wool off of her well used and, quite frankly, disgusting work station.

All she could do was stare. She had no idea how much the cloak must have cost him - no idea how he’d known to order it so that it perfectly fit her. The cloak was around her shoulders before she even realized what she was doing, and at once she knew that it contained every climate control charm in existence.

There were no mirrors in her basement, and she was glad. Rose knew she must look a fright - red faced and frizzy haired and exhausted - and she wanted to do justice to one of the most beautiful things she’d ever owned.

Except she shouldn’t own it, she told herself. She couldn’t be bought off with outerwear, no matter how exquisite. As she lovingly ran her fingers down the delicate gray folds, she promised herself that as soon as she made it home for the night she was going to transfigure it into dragon dung and owl it back to the smug git.

* * *

Rose showed up to the next match cozily tucked inside the bloody lovely cloak and gripping her Falcons pennant so hard she was afraid she might snap it in two. The rational part of her brain promised that she’d kept Scorpius’s gift because it was too beautiful to destroy. The rather more fanciful part of her knew she was afraid of what her gesture would mean to him. That very real fear remained inexplicable to her even as she stood waiting for a match she had sworn she wouldn’t attend and waving at Al across the otherwise empty box.

“Nice cloak,” he said, and she flushed. “Where’d you get it?”

“Shut up.” She blushed, clutching it around herself.

“No, really,” he said, offering her a butterbeer. “Christmas is coming and I bet Lily would love one in navy and gold.”

“You…what?”

“Merlin, Rose. Did you forget where you got it from already? It looks brand new!”

Al was looking at her as if she’d suddenly sprouted a second head, and she felt like she might as well have. “It is brand new.”

“And bugger if I ever thought you’d actually show up wearing Falcons colors.”

“I...I just thought…” She was stammering, but she couldn’t wrap her head around the fact that Scorpius had sent her this cloak and that Al had no idea.

“Never mind. Looks expensive anyway, and Lil’s most definitely been naughty not nice this year,” he said, winking at her.

“Right,” she muttered. “Naughty.”

“You ok?” Al asked, waving a hand in front of her face. “Potions fumes haven’t boggled you, have they?”

“I promise I’m not boggled,” she said, forcing a smile as she looked out over the pitch. “Where’s Scorpius?”

“What? Oh, probably warming up.”

“Is he – ”

“No. He usually doesn’t come up here before the games. I think it was bad luck last match, anyway.”

“I see,” she said, her voice drowned out by the roar of the crowd as the Falcons came shooting on to the pitch. She reached for Al’s omnioculars and found Scorpius hovering next to the seeker for the Harpies, a pretty brunette Rose didn’t recognize. The Harpies player said something that made him laugh, and Rose dropped the omnioculars back into Al’s lap with a frown as the match began. It was every bit as fast paced and violent as the previous week, but somehow calmer because Scorpius was calm.

“Meg’s never going to catch the snitch if she insists on marking him the whole game,” Al said, pointing upward. Rose, taking the offered omnioculars, saw Scorpius glancing behind himself occasionally with an amused smirk to see where the Harpies seeker hovered just off the tail of his broom.

“Who’s Meg?” she asked, watching Scorpius’s gray eyes dart around the pitch. “Other than the seeker for the Harpies,” she amended, heading off Al’s smart-arse retort.

“You wouldn’t remember her. Graduated a few years above us, Hufflepuff seeker. Decent, but couldn’t hold a candle to Scorpius. Then again, who can? Dad reckons even Viktor in his prime couldn’t have matched him.”

“Do you miss it?” she asked, changing the subject before she asked more questions about Scorpius or Meg or Scorpius and Meg and couldn’t explain why. “Playing?”

“Sometimes.” Al paused to cheer for a great save by the Falcons’ keeper. “I miss practice and giving Scorpius hell for being so damn serious about it. I miss flying almost every day, and I miss being on the team with one of my best mates and playing for Gryffindor, you know? James’d never get tired of telling me how much better Lily was anyway and – ”

The rest of Al’s comment was overpowered as suddenly the entire crowd was on its feet and Rose could only gasp as Scorpius dove from what seemed an impossible height.

“He’s feinting!” Al exclaimed.

“He isn’t! Oh, he isn’t! Look! Go, Scorpius! Go!”

Next to her, Al was jumping up and down and screaming delighted profanities as Scorpius pulled almost lazily from the dive and waved his fist in the air, the feebly beating wings of the snitch just visible.

“640 to 200!” Al exclaimed, still leaping about. “Dad’s never going to let mum hear the end of this!”

Rose was still looking out toward the middle of the pitch, clapping her hands in delight when Scorpius turned his broom to face them. He sent a rude gesture in Al’s direction, but when he met her eyes he half smiled and gave a little salute.

“By the way,” Al said, not quite hiding a grin. “Scorpius isn’t seeing Meg. Isn’t seeing anyone, in fact.”

She had to turn away to hide her flush. “Oh sod off.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Wimbourne Wasps, W, 740-220

“So then,” Lily said, trying to keep her voice down but having to speak up to be heard over the din in the pub. “James told Teddy that he was a bloody grown wizard and if the age difference didn’t bother him, it shouldn’t bother Teddy.”

Rose gasped, her eyes widening. “What did Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny say?”

“They just want James to be happy,” Lily confided, giving Rose a conspiratorial grin. “Honestly, I think Teddy was more shocked by it than any of us.”

“Can’t have been too shocked, what with all the drunken snogging ” Al said, sliding next to Rose. “But Teddy still ran off to France to see Victoire and whinge.”

“It’s nice that they’re still friends,” Rose said.

Lily snorted. “Dom told me she chucked a cauldron at him when they split up. But she’s all about tough love and he could use a kick in the arse.”

“Who needs a kick in the arse and where do I line up?” James asked, setting drinks down on the table and helping Fred with baskets of chips.

“Teddy,” Rose answered innocently, eyeing James over the rim of her butterbeer mug. “And apparently behind Victoire in France.”

“I liked it better when you were a reclusive killjoy,” James groaned, his whole face reddening. “Has anyone in the family not heard this story?”

“Uncle Charlie?” Al asked ponderously, his green eyes lighting up in mischief. “Wait. No. Uncle Bill surely knows by now, and he probably owled first thing.”

“My private life is private,” James grumbled. “You lot can bugger off.”

“Should have thought of that before declaring your love to your godbrother in your parents’ living room, mate,” Fred pointed out, and Rose choked on her butterbeer.

“There’s no such thing as bloody godbrothers! We are of no relation!”

“Of no relation?” Al mouthed at Rose, eyebrows raised, and she couldn’t hide her chuckle.

“Why wasn’t I born an only child to only children?” James almost wailed.

“Because you’d be bored out of your mind without them,” Rose replied.

“Without _us_ ,” Al corrected, giving her a look. “But don’t worry, James. Even Rose has come to commiserate with you tonight.”

“You told me it was a family emergency,” she said. “I assumed someone had been arrested. Or at least hexed.”

James just rolled his eyes. “Now that Al’s got you to come out of your dungeons on occasion - Fred reckoned you might be part vampire for a while, you know - you’re coming to the match Sunday, right?”

“Of course,” she replied. She’d tacked up the Falcons’ schedule on a board in her kitchen and just assumed she’d be attending with Al for the rest of the season.

“Great! I’ll have mum and dad save you a seat in the box.”

Rose shook her head in confusion. “I thought you weren’t allowed - “

“The Falcons are playing the Wasps, Rose,” Al said, knocking back his fire whiskey and reaching for Fred’s.

“What he means to say,” Lily said, smiling wickedly at her oldest brother, “Is that the Falcons will be crushing the Wasps.”

“Will not!” James almost yelled, slamming his glass down on the table.

“Will so,” Fred agreed.

“Traitors, the lot of you,” James accused.

“Don’t worry,” Lily said, only a little smug. “We’ll all be there to console you in your defeat.”

“You too?” Rose asked Al.

“It’s my rule,” Al said. “Falcons forever, unless they’re playing the Wasps.”

“Which is just rude,” Lily interjected. “You’re a wanker about Puddlemere.”

“That’s because,” Fred said, “Puddlemere is the only team that can beat the bloody Falcons.”

As James, Fred, and Lily stared to argue about Puddlemere’s supposed superiority, Rose leaned in toward Al.

“But,” she asked quietly, “Who will sit in Scorpius’s box? Do his parents come?”

“No,” Al said. “Mr. Malfoy doesn’t like the attention, and his mum hates Quidditch.”

“That’s terrible!” Surprised at her own vehemence, she refused to meet Al’s speculative glance.

“They told him when he plays for England they’ll sit through every second, even if the match lasts a month. Scorpius doesn’t mind.”

Rose frowned down into her lap, but almost immediately she heard yelling and looked up to see butterbeer dripping from Fred’s dreds.

“I’m going to kill you, Potter,” he roared, lunging over the table.

Rose looked around, panicked, but most of the pub was laughing, and Lily already had her wand out, cleaning up the mess with a fond shake of her head.

“Aren’t you glad you came out with us for more than five minutes?” Al asked, wrestling Fred back into his seat and freezing James with a perfectly timed _petrificus totalus_ charm.

“Actually, I really am.”

* * *

The day of the Falcons match with the Wasps, Rose sat at the foot of her bed, already dressed in jeans and a black jumper, her hair in a long red plait down her back. With a wave of her wand, two cloaks flew out of the open closet: one, the soft gray cloak from Scorpius, and the other a cheery yellow she’d gotten from Aunt Ginny. She stared at them both for a long time and, knowing it was what what she’d intended all along, grabbed the gray and ran out the door before she could change her mind. There was no rational reason for her to sit in Scorpius’s box; they weren’t really friends after all, but it was a compulsion she couldn’t ignore. Didn’t _want_ to ignore, really.

When she arrived at the pitch, she slipped up to Scorpius’s box. Skulked really, with her head down and the hidden hood of her cloak pulled up to hide the red of her hair. It was strange to arrive to empty seats, no Al and no butterbeer waiting for her. The thermos of tea she’d prepared before she left her flat was still warm, and Rose settled in, lifting the omnioculars she stole from Hugh to her eyes. Scanning the crowd, she immediately found her family in a box directly across the pitch.

Al and Uncle Harry were doubled over laughing at something Fred was doing that she couldn’t see, and her mum and dad were off to the side arguing with her Uncle George. Lily was talking to Aunt Ginny, pointing in the direction of the hoops. Rose was surprised to see Hugh sitting next to them, nodding along, and was annoyed he hadn’t let her know he was back from Egypt.

She put down the omnioculars with a sigh, a strange feeling of disloyalty sweeping over her. But then the Falcons were soaring onto the pitch and it was too late to move. Not that she wanted to. She sipped her tea, watching the player introductions and cheering especially loudly when James was announced. Just before the start of the match, as the players all hovered in the air awaiting the release of bludgers and quaffle and snitch, Scorpius glanced in her direction. She didn’t need omnioculars to see him freeze, to know that he was staring across the pitch at her, utter shock obvious on his face.

A grin spread unbidden and she gave her pennant a little wave just as the announcer’s voice boomed across the field. “And Malfoy seems confunded! I hope he isn’t going to have a repeat of his performance against the Kestrals, folks!”

Rose laughed, watching Scorpius shoot straight up. Through her omnioculars, she watched him as he soared high above the pitch, not paying the slightest mind to the seeker for the Wasps. Ignoring the rest of the game, she tracked his movements until he stopped and looked right at her, arching one eyebrow and grinning. She grinned back, hoping he couldn’t see her flush, and turned her omnioculars toward James, who, according to the announcer, had so far managed to only let one quaffle past him.

As the match wore on, both keepers began to struggle. At the next Wasps timeout, she shifted her omnioculars back to her family’s box. Immediately she saw Al, staring dead at her, both eyebrows raised. She gave a helpless little shrug. Al leaned across to Hugo and Lily who turned to give her stunned waves. Hugo, his face lighting up with a grin, leaned behind Al and Rose’s stomach dropped. She saw the exact moment that Hugh told her parents where she was, and by the time her dad found her in the crowd his face was a mottled purple. Even her mum looked taken aback. Rose glared at Hugo, running her finger across her throat, but he just laughed and elbowed Aunt Ginny.

Her whole family was gaping at her, her father gesticulating wildly, Uncle Harry trying to calm him down, while Hugo roared with laughter. Rose buried her face in her hands, grateful when the match resumed and the players were in the air. It became painful to watch, and not just because she knew half her family was across the pitch watching her instead of James. The timeout must have done the Falcon chasers some good because they were suddenly unstoppable, and Rose cringed when James just missed a superbly aimed shot. The chasers for the Wasps were showing their frustration as well, and the Falcons keeper made easy save after easy save.

The seeker for the Wasps darted all over the field, moving around so much that even the announcer couldn’t keep track, but Scorpius sat unmoving, as he has been for what felt by then like hours, surveying the pitch like he was its king.

And then she saw it, the snitch, fluttering a few feet back and to his left. Before she could even gasp his hand plucked the fluttering ball out of the air, his eyes still surveying the game below. He never even looked up.

It took a moment for the rest of the stadium to catch on, and a confused rumble slowly turned into a roar as everyone in the stadium looked to see what must surely have been one of the most spectacular grabs in history replayed. Scorpius, for his part, seemed immune to the melee. As an official checked the snitch fluttering in his hand, Rose watched him seek out Al for a now familiar rude gesture that was completely ignored as her cousin and the rest of her family gaped at him.

Then, Scorpius was whirling his broom around and looking right at Rose. Before she could so much as think to smile at him he’d zipped across the pitch and was sliding off of his broom and into her - no, his - box.

“Hullo Rose,” he said, leaning against a post, his back to the pitch that just moments before had held him riveted.

Her whole face was surely red, and she felt the eyes of every single spectator in the stands on their box. Rose could only stare at him, her pennant clutched in one hand and her omnioculars in the other. He raised an eyebrow, oblivious to the pandaemonium breaking out around them.

“How can you…Merlin’s pants, Scorpius!”

“Merlin’s pants?”

“How can you just stand there after…that was the most amazing catch I’ve ever seen!”

“Your Uncle Harry once almost swallowed a snitch,” he pointed out calmly.

“Yes, well, he hardly did that on purpose, and I’d not have seen it at any rate as my parents hated each other back then and so I’d hardly exist, would I?” she babbled, her heart still racing. “I’d no idea. Really. Were you even _trying_ at Hogwarts because I don’t see how you possibly can have done, not after that. The last two matches were amazing enough and…”

“No, please continue,” he said when she trailed off, still resolutely ignoring the chanting of his name. “You’ve never paid me a compliment before, let alone rambled on about my awe-inspiring skills.”

She froze, something in his tone making her stomach flip. “You were never interested in what I had to say before.”

He straightened away from the pillar, taking two deliberate steps toward her. His eyes never left hers, and she wondered if this was what it felt like to be a wild animal caught in a predator’s sights. “Is that what you thought?” he asked, reaching out and prying the omnioculars out of her grasp. She couldn’t move, was mesmerized by the warmth of his fingers - how were they so warm without gloves? - and she didn’t question him when he lifted the device to his own eyes, scrolling back and watching his catch. The smile that resulted was amused, but not smug, and he just shrugged as he tossed the omnioculars onto a chair.

“Thanks for being here to see it,” he said, reaching for her hand. It took her a long minute to realize that he’d placed the still feebly fluttering snitch into her palm and was closing her fingers around it. She was still staring down at the snitch when his arm came around her, the twigs from the broom he hadn’t set down brushing against her ankles.

Rose sucked in a breath at their closeness, unable to look away from the cool confidence in his gray eyes. She stopped breathing when a warm hand cupped her cool cheek. Scorpius’s gray eyes were stormy, and she saw a want in them that she felt sizzling over her own skin - a sizzling that she’d felt since she’d seen him weeks ago. He didn’t move - it seemed he was barely breathing - and she placed a hand on his chest just to feel his heart racing against her palm. Rose, her own heart pounding, lifted herself onto her tiptoes and brushed his lips with hers.

She’d barely pulled away when he pulled her even more snugly against him. Scorpius’s mouth was back on hers in an instant and, though his kiss was gentle, there was nothing tentative or questioning in it. A startled gasp escaped her as his fingers snaked into her hair, and she clutched at his shoulders to keep herself upright, the snitch’s wings flapping against his cloak. His lips were soft, coaxing, and every part of her seemed to be trying to melt into him. When he finally pulled away, she could only stare at him, mouth gaping open.

Bending down, he brushed his lips against her forehead. “Nice cloak.”

Her brain had only just caught up to what had happened when he mounted his broom. The announcer was still calling the final score of 740 to 220 in a dazed voice.

Before Scorpius could take flight - before he had a chance to turn around and watch as everything she thought she knew about him and herself crumbled down around her - Rose apparated straight to her flat.


	4. Press Conference

When Rose’s tea was ready the next morning, she poured a cup and tried very hard not to keep thinking about the previous day’s match. She tried very hard _not_ to think about the way her body had felt pressed up against Scorpius’s lean form. She tried very hard not to remember the thrill she felt when his lips met hers. And she _definitely_ was refusing to think about how suddenly empty she’d felt when he pulled away from her.

She’d just taken a fortifying sip when she heard Epione, her elf owl, swoop inside with the morning papers. Dashing into her kitchen, Rose barely had time to give her a soothing pat before she was spreading the papers out in front of her. Scorpius was on the front page of every single edition. On the Prophet’s cover, he appeared perched lightly on his broom as he surveyed the pitch. Inside the pages was story after story about his catch, about the buildup to it, and about its place amongst the great grabs by seekers throughout history.

“I owe Aunt Ginny a monstrously huge favor,” Rose told Epione, watching the owl ruffle her feathers.

Steeling herself, Rose reached for Witch Weekly. There, on the cover, was a collage of photos of Scorpius under the headline _HOTTEST SEEKER IN A CENTURY SIZZLES! MATCH HISTORIC IN MORE WAYS THAN ONE! (Details inside!)_. In the center of the grouping was a picture similar to the Prophet’s, though it had clearly been taken earlier in the game; instead of focused intensity, Scorpius’s face was alight with a lazy smile. Scattered around the cover there were photos of Scorpius in other games, leaving the pitch, and even one of him and Al at Hogwarts, arms slung around each other and grinning at the camera.

Tentatively, she opened the magazine and saw a photo of Scorpius in his box. Above the photo, the headline read _MALFOY’S SECRET ROMANCE: Lucky witch catches ultimate snitch!_ She bit her lip, glancing from the snitch still fluttering around her ceiling back to the picture. Scorpius’s back was to the camera, but she knew him at once by both his uniform and the distinctive silvery-blond hair that seemed to float about in the early winter wind. She watched the photo, waiting for the moment when she would be revealed, but her face never appeared; she remained fully blocked from view, hidden by Scorpius’s tall form and the miraculously placed pillar. Of course, there were seemingly hundreds of shots of her hands clutching at his shoulders, as well as a very clear shot of Scorpius placing the snitch into her open palm.

Her heart began to slow and, for the first time since she’d woken up, she felt like she could breathe again. She had just released a sigh of relief when she saw a tiny glimpse of an errant curl float upward in the wind.

“Bloody sodding hell,” she breathed. The photo was in black and white, and the glimpse so brief she, even with her intense analysis, had almost missed it. Still, she knew that the photo would be ceaselessly analyzed by half of the wizarding world, from every angle. Hadn’t she herself done the same thing when he’d dated witches in the past?

Her whole body froze. She had no intention of kissing Scorpius Malfoy again, let alone dating him. None at all. It was just a kiss, she told herself. She wasn’t _dating_ Scorpius Malfoy. 

She flipped through the few reputable papers left in her pile. Though they all mentioned Scorpius’s unusual decision to visit his box after the match, not a single paper mentioned her name or focussed on anything other than amazement at the spectacular nature of the grab. The Quibbler didn’t mention the match, of course, but Rose was so amused that the owl brought it for her that she paused her frantic perusal to fetch her a piece of bacon and a goblet of pumpkin juice.

She’d just binned the whole stack of papers when she heard a pounding on the door. Rose squared her shoulders and walked to her entryway. In the mirror hanging next to her door were Al and Lily, already arguing. With a sigh, she let them in with a wave of her wand.

There was a scuffle as both siblings fought to be the first in the door. “Shouldn’t you two be at work?”

“Like I’m going to be able to work today,” Al huffed, nudging Lily to the side. “I’m surprised you aren’t hiding out in your dungeon.”

“I don’t have to go in on Mondays,” Rose said, watching as the pair continue to push at each other. “I’ve timed the potions so that nothing needs to be added. I thought I’d hide out at home instead. Not that it seems to be working.”

“You’re just lucky Hugh absolutely could not get out of work this morning or he’d have been beating down your door right along with us.”

“If Hugh had been with you, I’d never have answered.”

Neither of the Potters were listening, still too intent on shoving each other. “Watch it, Albus, I’ve got a match in two days!”

“She’s _my_ best mate!” he argued. “I told you to stay at mum and dad’s!”

“Like I would miss this! Way better than Teddy and James’s melodrama.”

Rose raised her eyebrows. “Miss what?”

Al just stared at her. “Rose. Rose, you’re the girl in the box. You’re the girl he gave the snitch to! The girl he bloody snogged in front of the whole damn world!”

“Should have seen your dad’s face!” Lily crowed. “Hugh and I thought his head might actually explode.”

“Even Aunt Hermione went all quiet,” Al said, throwing himself down onto Rose’s well-worn sofa. “Could have warned a bloke.”

“Tea, Rose? Don’t worry. I’ll fetch some for us,” Lily called over her shoulder. “Just don’t talk about anything interesting while I’m gone!”

As soon as she was out of sight, Al leaned over and whispered, “How long?”

“How long what?” she asked with a coolness that belied the anxiety that had been creeping up since she saw the article.

“How long have you and Scorpius - ”

“I told you not to talk about anything interesting while I was gone!” Lily exclaimed, waltzing back in with the pot of tea Rose had been brewing and a packet of ginger newts.

Rose sighed, fidgeting with the tassels on one of her many accent pillow. “There’s nothing to tell. Nothing is going on with Scorpius. I’ve not spoken to him since the match.”

“Not spoken or not stuck your tongue down his throat?”

“Lily!” Rose exclaimed, and her cousin waggled her eyebrows at her.

“The cloak, Rose,” Al prompted.

“What cloak?” Lily demanded. “The one she wore to the match? In the Falcons colors?”

“Where’d you get the cloak?” Al asked.

“Where _did_ you get the cloak?” Lily echoed. “I’d quite fancy one myself.”

“It’s none of your business,” Rose said, standing and walking toward the window. It was a miserably gray day, and she was glad. Her stomach was in knots, and she was pretty sure that if she didn’t stop feeling so many conflicting emotions soon she was actually going to be ill.

“When did he send it to you?” Al asked.

“Who says he did?”

“I do,” Al replied, more firmly. “I don’t know why I didn’t guess the other day.”

“If you think he sent it, why aren’t you pounding down his door?”

“Couldn’t get to it. Reporters everywhere. I wouldn’t be surprised if the ministry didn’t have to get involved. A bunch of people wearing robes and hats carrying rolls of parchment standing about in Mayfair?”

“Rose,”Lily said, walking over and pressing a cup of tea into her hands. “Bugger the cloak. Al’s a numpty. We came to make sure you were ok. To see if you needed to talk.”

“Thank you. I do need to talk,” she said, still staring out at the street. “But not to you two.”

Al scowled, but Lily rolled her eyes at him. “She means she needs to talk to Malfoy, you insensitive wart.”

“Fine,” Al said, making no move to get off of her sofa. “In the meantime, turn on the wireless, Lil.”

“The wireless?” Rose asked, watching Lily wave her wand in the reflection on the rain spattered window.

“Press conference,” Lily answered for her brother, sinking down onto the carpet and balancing her cup and saucer on her knees. Rose turned around, leaning against her bookcase and taking a sip of tea. It was mint, and she gave Lily a grateful smile over the rim of her cup.

At first, all that could be heard was yelling. A male voice boomingly demanded quiet, and Lily told them that it was the captain of the Falcons squad.

 _“One at a time!”_ the voice yelled out. _“Belinda, go ahead.”_

_“Belinda Bagman, The Daily Prophet. You’ve no doubt seen the photos in Witch Weekly, Mr. Malfoy.”_

_“Of course I haven’t seen them,”_ Scorpius said, sounding bored. Rose smiled down at her tea.

 _“Right, well,”_ the reporter continued _. “It shows you handing the game snitch to a mystery woman in your private box.”_

“He’s rolling his eyes right now,” Al said. “He’s totally rolling his eyes right now.”

“Quiet,” Lily hissed.

 _“And?”_ Scorpius’s tone was lazy, but Rose heard a steel in his words that sent a shiver right through her.

 _“And_ ,” the reporter continued, her voice flirtatious, “ _There also seemed to be quite a kiss.”_

There was tittering in the newsroom and Rose held her breath.

 _“I’ve always been honest about my play. Three weeks ago it was rubbish. Yesterday? Yesterday was the most focussed I’ve ever played in my life. Yesterday I made one of the most amazing grabs in the last two centuries. Yesterday, I had_ Wasps _fans chanting my name. And you lot want to know who was sitting in my box? You’re pathetic.”_

His voice was cheerful, but somehow also scathing. Rose’s heart pounded in her chest, her breathing unsteady as she stared at the wireless, wishing she could see his face.

“Merlin,” Lily gasped.

Al sat up, eyes darting between the wireless and Rose.

 _“Pathetic though it may be,”_ a strident female voice called out. _“Who’s the witch, Malfoy?”_

 _“As many of you are well aware, I don’t comment on my personal or family life. Never have done. Never will do again. But this one time, I’m going to say this to every single one of you, and to every witch and wizard listening. The person in my box was there, to my very great surprise, to support me. She didn’t ask for me to make a spectacle, and I didn’t intend to make one. But I’d just made one of the best catches in the century and, caught up in a moment, I_ did _make a scene. I’ll not have her punished for my lack of foresight. If a single one of you tracks her down and hounds her about me or the match or what I said to her in that box - if a single one of you so much as puts her name into print in connection with that match or me? England can find another bloody seeker. I won’t play Quidditch again. Piss off.”_

Another roar of sound came from the wireless, but all Rose heard was the shattering of china as her teacup slipped from her fingers and smashed against her hardwood floor.

“Shite,” Al breathed.

“Shite,” Lily whispered, looking warily at Rose.

Rose could only nod in agreement.

 

 


	5. Ballycastle Bats, W, 150-0

Rose went back to practically sleeping on the couch in her cramped office, barely remembering to make herself a cult of tea in the morning. But, for the first time in as long as she could remember, she felt lonely while she worked. She’d been distracted, lazy even, despite the fact that she’d practically doubled the hospital’s store of restorative draughts and healing potions in a matter of weeks. She’d ruined four pepper up potions while lost in replays of Scorpius’s kiss. She’d spilled an entire batch of blood replenishing potion in her agitation over what Scorpius had said at the press conference.

She’d come close to owling him so many times - had even thought, in her exhausted delirium, of apparating straight to his flat and demanding an explanation. Because, no matter how she tried - how much she tried to distract herself - she couldn’t figure out why he’d done it. And, just as scary, she was starting to realize just how much she wanted him to do it again. The thought was almost paralyzing, and she was lost in worry one afternoon when she looked up and there he was.

“Scorpius?” she squeaked. She gave her head a little shake, willing herself calm, and dropped her workbook onto the table. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“So you came to where I work?” she demanded, and the little surge of anger she felt buoyed her nerves. Nothing, barely even her family, mattered to her as much as her work. Nothing had done since before she graduated. Her whole world was tied to this basement, and everything about his presence threatened it and her and her sanity and her _life._

“I didn’t just stroll in, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he said, and his casual confidence made her want to throttle him.

“Lovely.” Her voice was sarcastic, and she watched Scorpius’s shoulders tense and his eyes harden at her tone. “So what do you want?”

“I want you to have dinner with me,” he said, sitting on a stool across from her, his face passive once more.

“Dinner,” she repeated. It felt like the floor had dropped out from underneath her, and she leaned against her workstation to steady herself.

“Dinner,” he agreed. “At my flat. I’ll order in.”

“Dinner. At your flat?” she repeated again.

“Yes,” Scorpius said with the same tone of infinite patience that her mum used to drive her up the wall. “Dinner. At my flat. I’ll order in. We can talk.”

“No, thank you,” she answered, leaning over her workbook. She couldn’t look at him, knew that the moment that he caught her gaze she would be done for, and she was still too lost in her own confusion to handle having someone else sort her out. She wanted to give him a proper set down. She wanted to demand answers, to wrap her head around what the hell had happened before she started what came next. Because Rose knew, whatever it was, she could easily lose herself in it. She wasn’t ready for dashing off to dinner.

“No, thank you?” he asked, eyes narrowing.

“No. Thank you.”

“I see,” he said, standing slowly and moving toward her. He stood by her side, so close that she could smell the wind in his hair and the grass scent of his robes and the soapy smell of his skin, her knees turning more and more to jelly with every inhalation.

Rose ignored him, looking around for quills and ink. She expected him to say something - expected him to try to get the last word and she could trounce him in an argument - but when she looked up she found him watching her. Before she could formulate a thought, he was breathing her name and his lips were on hers and she recognized his calm for the facade it was. His kiss was hungry, needy, and she could tell that his control had abandoned him. One arm wrapped itself around her waist, tugging her close, and she knew without it she’d be melting into the floor. Scorpius unbound her hair with a pull at the end of her plait, and they stumbled backwards as he unwound her curls. The small of her back bumped into her work table, and without removing his lips from hers Scorpius lifted her onto it and stepped between her legs.

His long fingers were buried in her hair now, and when his mouth slid away from her lips and down her neck her eyes fluttered open and she gasped. The door to her lab was closed, but it was still there, unlocked, waiting for anyone to come in. Scorpius sensed the tension spreading through her body and disentangled his fingers from her hair, releasing his hold on her waist as he stepped back.

His cheeks were pink and his hair was mussed. He looked more disheveled than she’d ever seen him and for some reason seeing him look so off kilter left her hot all over.

“Have dinner with me, Rose. Please.” Despite the seriousness of his expression, there was an almost beseeching tone to the question that he couldn’t quite hide.

She didn’t answer - she could barely formulate a thought, let alone words. All Rose could do was shake her head no, knowing she was gaping at him, and watch him storm out the door that had brought her back to her senses.

* * *

 

“Come on, Rose,” Al pleaded. “You have to go.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” she said, resolutely not looking up from her book.

“We’ve been having such a good time, though.”

She sighed and looked at her cousin. Al’s hair was, as usual, a mess. He sat on the very edge of one of her squashy arm chairs in his Falcons robes, his green eyes beseeching.

“We have been,” she conceded with a grim smile. “But I can’t do it anymore. Not after last match. Not after - I just can’t.”

“No one would even begin to think you were the witch with the snitch,” he said.

She wrinkled her nose at the nickname. “I can’t handle the fuss. I can’t, Al. I’m not fond of attention.”

It was the most honest thing she’d admitted to anyone but herself in ages, but it was still at best a half-truth. If Scorpius hadn’t told Al about what had happened between them at St. Mungo’s she bloody hell wasn’t going to be the one to do it. She didn’t want the attention - never had - but it was more than that now. The thought of facing him after what had happened - after she’d let him walk out without even an explanation? No wonder she hadn’t been in Gryffindor.

“Even if they thought it _was_ you, it’s not worth the galleons when it means ending up tarred and feathered after Scorpius refuses to play for England next summer.”

Rose scoffed, distracted from her embarrassment. “He wouldn’t – ”

“Yes, Rose,” Al said quietly. “He would. He told me so, calm as anything.”

“Rubbish,” she said at once, but she could feel the nerves building in her even as she gave an emphatic shake of her head.

“I’m telling you, as your cousin and your best mate and as someone who loves you, it’s not. He’d never have said it if he wasn’t willing to follow through.”

“But,” she spluttered. “That’s _insane_. If he cared so much he shouldn’t have bloody snogged me in front of the entire bloody world!”

“If you want to know what Scorpius cares about, Rose, then ask him. Please come to the match,” Al said. “He’s being so blasé about all of this. It’s starting to scare me.”

“I _can’t_.”

“You won’t. There’s a difference.”

“What does it matter to him?” she begged to know, a desperation in her tone she couldn’t hide.

“He’s a complicated bloke,” Al said, standing and strolling toward her bedroom. She got up to follow and found him digging in her closet, emerging with her Falcons cloak. “Whatever this is between you, the pair of you need to sort it out. Now put this on and let’s go. ”

* * *

 

Rose sat beside Al in Scorpius’s box, head down and refusing to look out across the stands.

“Stop looking so guilty,” he scolded, elbowing her in the side. She jumped in her seat and glared at him. “Act normal. Normal for you anyway.”

She hit him with her pennant. “I feel like everyone’s looking.”

He shrugged. “Could be nothing. I’m me and you’re you. We’re kind of a thing in our own rights, you know.”

“Which is daft,” she said, taking a butterbeer.

“No argument here,” Al agreed, slinging his arm across the back of Rose’s chair. “I’m telling you. If you act like nothing’s going on, nobody will think that it is. Everyone knows you don’t socialize.”

“I socialize,” she objected feebly.

“Well, _now_ you socialize. You didn’t before I conned you into it.”

“You couldn’t con me into doing something if you tried, Albus Potter.”

“You’re sitting here, aren’t you?” he asked, grinning.

“I hate you,” she sighed.

“But you love me too. Look, here they come!”

And then the Falcons were on the field, the Bats in their black and red robes right behind them. The roar of the crowd when Scorpius was introduced was deafening. Even without omnioculars she could see him glance at his box, see him look back when he realized that she was there. She almost waved, but the scowl on his face as he took off flying high above the stands stopped her.

Al whistled low, shaking his head. “No one puts Malfoy in a strop like you, Rose.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said crisply, and she didn’t. She had no idea how Scorpius seemed to tie her into knots and even less of an idea why she seemed to do the same to him. All she knew was that the press of his body against hers had burned its way through her skin and his smile made it hard for her to think and that she’d never hated herself more than when she’d climbed down from her table and gone back to her work without chasing after him and demanding the answers she still so desperately wanted.

She watched as the referees lugged the crate of balls to the center of the field and opened them. Bludgers and snitch went flying and the quaffle was in the air.

“I’m not sure I do either. In fact...” Trailing off, Al squinted up at the sky and scrambled for his omnioculars. Rose leaned to the edge of the box and looked out out over the pitch. A sort of stunned stillness settled over the crowd much as it had the previous match. Only now, even the announcer was silent. The only movement in the entire stadium was Scorpius, streaking down to the center of the pitch. He stopped, thrust the snitch to the referee, and stalked all the long way across the field.

“And, that’s it,” the announcer called out, flummoxed. “Falcons win, 150 to 0.”

“Did he just,” Rose began, glancing around the confused crowd. “Did he just catch the snitch?”

“He just caught the snitch,” Al said, but he said it independently of her question, still staring dumbfounded at the tunnels that led to the locker room.

“That was faster than the Slytherin match at Hogwarts,” she said.

“I’m pretty sure that was the fastest anyone’s caught the snitch in a hundred years. Since the Tornados?” Al’s commentary was distracted, and Rose could tell that his mind was already on Scorpius and the bitter expression that had been on his face as he left the pitch.

No one in the stadium left their seats. Unlike the joyous roar of his last spectacular save, the air buzzed with a confused rumble.

“Brilliant,” Al mumbled, still flabbergasted. “Bloody brilliant.”

Rose collapsed next to him. “I don’t understand. How did he – ”

“Don’t ask me,” he interrupted. “Rose, I’ve got to go.”

“Go? Go where?”

“His flat. Before the press make it. Go home. I’ll see you at the pub with the cousins.”

“Al!” she called out before he could disapparate. “Tell him…tell him from me…”

“I’ll tell him you said nice catch. Tomorrow, Rose. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

 

 

 

 


	6. Pride of Portree, W, 460-130

Rose didn’t join her cousins at the pub. She didn’t answer her owls. She didn’t read the papers. She was, in fact, calculating the odds of ever speaking to another human being again when a knock on her front door made her freeze. Peeking down her hallway, she saw her dad’s frowning face in her mirror and grudgingly let him in.

“Hey dad.”                                                        

“Hey dad?” he asked, crossing his arms. “Hey dad? You don’t answer our owls for weeks, drive your poor mum spare, and you answer the door with ‘hey dad’ _?_ ”

Rose gave him a weak smile. “Something tells me mum isn’t the one going spare.”

He scowled at her, stomping into the living room and collapsing into her favorite chintz armchair. “Of course I’m going bloody spare!”

“Dad, really – ”

“You’ve always been quiet about things, but it’s not like you to keep secrets, Rose.”

“I’m not!” She fell face first onto her sofa and wondered if a time would come that the disappointment in her dad’s tone didn’t make her feel five years old.

“Is it because you think we wouldn’t approve?” her dad asked, and she groaned into the cushions.

“There’s nothing to approve _of_.”

“But – ”

“Witch Weekly has published about a hundred articles saying that you and mum were on the outs. About a thousand that Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny were done for. Should I believe that rubbish?”

“I didn’t need Witch Weekly. I’ve got eyes, old though they might be.”

“I know. I saw them spying on me,” she said, sitting up and glowering.

“Spying on you? I ruddy well saw him snogging you. In public! And I heard the damn press conference. Scorpius Malfoy announcing that he’ll never play quidditch again? The boy might as well tell us he’ll stop breathing.”

“Exactly! He didn’t mean it!”

“Pumpkin,” he said gently, and she scowled. “You’re right it wasn’t mum going spare. I got a very nice speech about how you are a grown up, well rounded witch who deserves our trust. But bollocks to that. Out with it.”

“There’s really nothing to come out with,” Rose sighed. “Al said no one would be there for Scorpius and, I don’t know dad, I just felt so terrible for him.”

Her dad snorted. “Rosie. Loads of people were there to cheer on Scorpius.”

She elbowed him in the side. “You know what I mean. I just…can you imagine a match with James or Lily playing and not a single one of us bothered to show up?”

“So you decided to go.”

“I did. I didn’t know what I was thinking, just that it was what I wanted to do.”

“And now?”

“I still don’t know,” she said. All of a sudden she was crying, and her dad was looking about frantically for tissues. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Before she could let go of another sob, her dad pulled her into his chest, his jumper itchy against her cheek.

“I thought maybe we were friends. And then he gave me that stupid snitch and bloody snogged me and I was so confused and I turned him down when he asked me to dinner and then he went and kissed me anyway and – ”

“Bloody hell,” her dad groaned. “He asked you to dinner?”

“Yes,” she hiccuped.

“Does it have to be him, Rosie?”

Rose sniffled, leaning away and meeting her dad’s frowning face. “What?”

He swore. “Your mum would tell me to keep my big nose out of this,” he said, tucking her back to his side. “And I learned a long time ago that your mum is always right.”

“But?” Rose asked with a wobbly smile.

“But talk to the boy.”

“Talk to him about _what_? We’re not even friends!”

“Maybe you weren’t before,” her dad said, standing up and stretching his long limbs. “Maybe you aren’t _friends_ now. But I’d say you lost the argument that he doesn’t matter when you sat in his box wearing his colors to spare his delicate, ikkle little feelings.”

“Dad!”

“Not to mention when you smashed your face against him. More than once. Never in front of me again, Rosie, or I’ll hex the little bleeder into the next century. And I definitely don’t want to hear about it, either.”

“ _Dad!”_

“Gotta run, pumpkin.” He bent down and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, giving her plait an affectionate tug. “Don’t ignore my owls ever again.”

“You’re really not upset with me?”

“We all do stupid things out of pride, Rosie. I don’t love the fact that he’s a ruddy Malfoy, but I do love you.”

“I love you too, dad.”

“Good. Then you won’t tell mum I came by. And definitely don’t mention the whole bollocks to that thing.”

* * *

 

“What are you doing here?” Al asked in surprise when she turned up in Scorpius’s box a week later.

“Am I not invited?” Rose sat down and reached across him for a butterbeer.

“You’ve not answered any of my owls!” he accused. “Nor Lily’s!”

“I was sulking,” she admitted. “Sorry.”

“Sorry? You’re sorry?” His face was so adorably flustered that Rose couldn’t stop a chuckle.

“Yes. I’m sorry. I’m not saying it again.”

“Not even to Scorpius?”

Rose rounded on him. Al’s ears turned pink and she slugged him in the arm. “I thought he didn’t talk to you about me!”

“Well, he _didn’t_! He doesn’t really.”

“Mind your own business, Al.”

“You two _are_ my business!”

“I mean it. Butt,” she ordered, jabbing a finger into his chest. “Out.”

“Bloody hell,” he said, eyes wide like saucers. “You really do fancy him! I mean, I thought that you might come round but - ”

“Albus Severus Potter!”

“Albus Severus Potter says Rose Minerva Weasley fancies Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy!”

“I do not!”

“Oh you most definitely do. I mean, I guess if weasel faces are your thing – ”

“He does not have a weasel face, you cretin!” she said emphatically, and Al doubled over, roaring with laughter.

“This is the best and worst thing that has ever happened to me,” he panted. “Don’t know how it happened, mind. I seem to recall you thinking he has flobberworms for brains.”

“He does,” she hissed, hitting him with her pennant.

“Merlin, when did you get so violent?” he asked, still grinning.

“I don’t fancy him,” she said stubbornly. “I don’t. I just…I don’t _not_ fancy him.”

Al scrunched up his face and gave her a sarcastic nod.

“Shut up. Match is starting,” she said, hiding her flushing cheeks behind his omnioculars and watching the Falcons and Portree players burst into flight.

“I don’t get it,” Al said, ignoring the pitch entirely. “If you fancy him, which you do so don’t bother hitting me again, why’d you turn him down?”

“I didn’t turn him down.”

“You did so!” he argued. “Not that the prat would talk about it. Just said he asked you to have dinner with him and you said no.”

“Actually, I said ‘No, thank you.’”

Al guffawed. “You two are perfect for each other.”

“I barely know him,” she disagreed. “He barely knows me. You, as always, are getting rather ahead of yourself.”

“Am I?” he asked sweetly and handed her the omnioculars.

Rose stuck out her tongue and took them. All at once she could see Scorpius sitting atop his broom and watching her. He didn’t look shocked or angry this time, just pensive, and her cheeks heated as he continued to stare. A bludger whipped in front of his face, but he didn’t move.

Al jumped to his feet. “Oi! Malfoy! There’s a game on, you pillock!”

Scorpius hovered for another moment, his eyes still on Rose, tilted his head consideringly, and was off.

“Bloody arse,” Al said cheerfully, flopping back into his seat. “He better enjoy piddling around while he can. Puddlemere’s coming up.”

“Not that it’ll matter if he catches the snitch in two seconds flat,” Rose said, digging in her cloak for a bag of every flavor beans and offering them to Al.

“Puddlemere’s chasers are too good,” he explained around a mouthful of beans. “They’ll probably have scored about two hundred points by the time he even thinks of the snitch. Lily, though it pains me to say nice things about my sister, is stellar. I heard mum tell dad she wouldn’t be surprised if she ends up on the national squad as well.”

“Not James,” Rose asked, and Al choked on a bean.

“Even James isn’t daft enough to think he’ll play for England. He’ll play a few years for the Wasps and then end up at the Ministry. Or maybe working with Fred and Uncle George and your dad. Merlin knows with him.”

“And you’re staying with Magical Law Enforcement?”

“So long as Aunt Hermione will continue to have me,” he said, eyes darting about the pitch. “Can’t let charm and charisma this magnificent go to waste. Blimey it’s windy out there.”

“Hey, Al,” Rose said. “At Hogwarts…”

“Yeah?” he asked, still watching the game.

She paused, unsure how to phrase her question. Scorpius had implied that he hadn’t ignored her at Hogwarts - that he hadn’t been ambivalent - and it was one of the hardest things for her to let go of. “What was I like at Hogwarts?”

Al turned to look at her, eyebrows raised. She could see the joke he wanted to make die, and he answered, “You were you, Rose.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means you were you,” he said, immediately proving her wrong. “Shy. Studious. Quiet. Loyal to the ends of the earth. How you watched Slytherin get destroyed so many times just for Hugh I’ll never know.”

“But - ”

“Not buts, Rosie. You were my best mate and my favorite cousin. You saw every single one of my games. You proofed most of my essays. You ate breakfast with me and Scorpius instead of making nice with the Ravenclaws even though it meant they thought you were stuck up because you knew I was lonely and homesick and that James was - and is, come to think of it - a useless tosser. You let us drag you out on Hogsmeade weekends. You helped me study for all my exams and my OWLs and - ”

“All right,” she interrupted, embarrassed. “I don’t know why I’m even asking.”

“Yes you do,” he said. “The question you need to be asking is what _he_ was like at Hogwarts. Bludger!”

Rose’s head whipped around and she zeroed in on Scorpius darting all over the field. He looked skyward in obvious exasperation before pelting down toward the pitch. He didn’t once glance behind him and, feet from the surface, one of the Falcons’ beaters finally caught up and whacked the bludger at a Portree chaser. Rose inhaled as Scorpius pulled out of the dive, corkscrewing straight up into the air.

“Ruddy showoff,” Al complained.

She nodded in agreement, watching as Scorpius circled the pitch patiently, almost bored.

“Thanks, Al.”

“For what,” he asked, face screwed up in confusion.

“For making me come to the first match.”

“Ah. Well. I mean, you’re welcome of course. But I didn’t do it just for you.”

“Then - ”

“Not a chance, Rose. You can talk to Scorpius.”

“At least tell me if he wants to talk to me.”

Al rolled his eyes. “Of course he ruddy wants to talk to you. He asked you to dinner.”

“ _That_ ,” Rose sighed, “was before we snogged all over my work table and I just let him walk out.”

“And finally she admits it.”

“Oh, stuff it. I came with you to the last match, didn’t I?”

“And you let him scare you off again. Just so you know, he was mad at me too.”

“Why on earth — ”

“I don’t really understand it myself. Something about how he had a plan and dragging you out against your will wasn’t part of it and minding my own bloody business. Only with a lot more inappropriate language.”

“A plan?”

“I definitely think you should muck it up some more, by the way. It hasn’t actually been a lot of fun being around him the last few weeks, but Merlin it will all be worth it when I can tease him mercilessly about this for the rest of our lives. I think he’s probably seen the damn snitch about six times by now. Any day now, Malfoy!” Al yelled out.”

“I don’t think he can hear you,” Rose said.

“Makes me feel better though. One day he’s going to be faffing about and miss the bloody thing.”

She picked up the omnioculars and searched the sky, finding Scorpius sitting on his broom and fiddling with the clasp on his robes. Rose watched as his attention focused, and he was off so fast that Rose had to drop the omnioculars to keep up.

“He’s got it! He’s got it!” Al bellowed, waving his hands in the air as Scorpius careened around a hoop, nearly crashing into his own keeper. He emerged with his fists held in the air, coming to an immaculate stop and immediately whirling his broom about to face them. The announcer yelled the final score, 460 to 130.

Al returned Scorpius’s obscene gesture, raising his eyebrows at Rose.

“Rose and Scorpius, sitting in a tree, K-I — ”

“Hey, Al,” she said, turning to her cousin. “How do I get around Scorpius’s wards?”

 

 

 


	7. Post Portree

Scorpius opened the door to his flat in his stocking feet, well worn jeans, and a green wooly jumper, the knitting bearing a suspicious resemblance to the navy blue jumper she wore under her Falcons cloak. For a long minute, he simply stood and stared at her.

“I changed my mind,” she said, holding up a bag of thai takeaway.

He leaned against his doorjamb, not stepping aside or letting her in.

Rose frowned. “About dinner. I changed my mind almost as soon as you left. I panicked. I’m not proud of it, but that’s what happened.”

Still expressionless, Scorpius stepped aside and waved her into his flat.

“Everything’s green,” she commented as she waited for him to take her cloak. He pulled it from her shoulders, his fingers just barely brushing the back of her neck, and she felt the touch all the way down her spine.

“Red makes my hair look pink,” Scorpius said, his back to her as he hung her cloak in a small closet.

“Awkward for a Gryffindor.” She wanted to laugh, but there was a tension in the air that made it hard to breathe.

“And Al never let me forget it.”

When he turned to face her, he wore a strange half smile. She clutched the paper bag of takeaway to her chest. She shifted awkwardly from foot-to-foot, but Scorpius still didn’t say anything. The longer he stared, the more Rose found herself wanting to smile. If he was trying to intimidate her with his silence, it wasn’t going to work. She’d gone days and days without speaking to a soul at Hogwarts, and sometimes a week or more since she’d graduated. Taking advantage of her receding nerves, she met his gray stare.

Scorpius crossed his arms over his chest and raised both eyebrows. This time she did smile, rolling her eyes. Without a word, she turned her back to him and headed down the hallway to where she guessed the kitchen would be. It was small but warm, a rustic table shoved up against the wall. Rose dropped the takeaway onto the table and took out her wand.

“Accio plates,” she said as Scorpius entered the kitchen. “Accio forks.”

He headed to the counter, rummaging about for napkins. Taking a seat, Rose watched him, head propped on her hand, as he poured pumpkin juice into goblets and then waved the jug away with his wand. It was so oddly domestic that she almost laughed. He sat down opposite her and met her gaze, and the last of her nerves turned into a churning anticipation.

“You changed your mind,” he said, leaning back and ignoring the fragrant takeaway spread out across the table.

“I did,” she agreed. He was watching her in that casually intense way he’d so perfected. Rose found herself reaching for the closest container just so she’d have something to do with her hands, something to pay attention to rather the almost magnetic depth of his eyes.

“I didn’t think you would.” He was still staring at her and had made no move to start eating.

“I told you. I regretted not stopping you from leaving at St. Mungo’s. I owed you an explanation at least.”

“Is that why you’re here? To explain your rejection?”

“I’m here because I didn’t want to say no in the first place,” she replied, gratified when his hand froze halfway to his pumpkin juice.

“But you _did_ say no.”

His face was a mask, but she was starting to see the cracks in it.

“I was angry at you for showing up at St. Mungo’s. I was angry at you for the ruckus at the match. I was _angry_ about your bloody press conference. And I was angry at myself for letting you get me so worked up.”

“So you were angry.”

She glared at him. “Is sarcasm your default?”

“Yes,” he answered simply, leaning back in his chair again. “Fair enough. You were angry at me.”

“I thought you’d come to hash things out. I was ready for a row. Maybe a screaming one.”

“Yell away, then.”

“The takeaway will get cold.”

“Honestly, Rose, I don’t give a bloody damn about the takeaway,” he said, his voice calm but his expression intense. He stood, the movement so abrupt it was almost clumsy, and held out his hand. Primly, she laid her fork onto her plate and, with only a hint of hesitation, placed her hand in his.

Staring up at him, she realized how easy it would be to kiss him. And she wanted to. His fingers were still lightly clasping her hand and all she could thing about was the feel of his warm skin on hers and the want that surged through her at his lightest touch. She could feel the heat rising up her neck as she saw that want mirrored in his eyes. When he moved forward, though, he simply rested his forehead against hers, eyes closed.

“You’ve never talked to me before,” she whispered.

It wasn’t what she’d meant to say when she’d opened her mouth, but Rose knew that her accusation was at the heart of the strange hesitation she’d felt with him all along. Hogwarts was in the past, but somehow she’d managed to carry the inexplicable hurt and bitterness with her all along - the feelings she’d never known were still buried in her thoughts until he’d rejected her so off-handedly in his box that first time.

“Yes I have,” he replied, pulling her to his chest. He ran his fingers up and down her arm absent-mindedly, and she wanted to forget having a conversation and ghost her lips over the pale line of his neck.

“Talked to me, Scorpius. Not used words in my presence.” Her voice was breathy, but thankfully muffled by his jumper.

“I was rather under the impression,” he said, burying his face in her hair, “That you preferred it when I didn’t talk to you.”

She pulled back. “What does that mean?”

He tilted his head, watching her, and then pulled her down the hallway and into his living room. He collapsed onto his sofa and tucked her neatly into his side.

“You didn’t like me at Hogwarts. And don’t scrunch up your nose,” he scolded, tugging on a curl. “You know it’s true. You only ever acknowledged I existed because of Al. You’d never play chess with me when I asked. You deliberately ate the last of the butterscotch pudding at Christmas third year even though you knew it was my favorite. You thought I spent too much time on Quidditch and you gave me that oh-so-superior look when I dropped Ancient Runes and Arithmancy after our OWLs. And let’s not forget the snide comments about my relationships that time seventh year in the library – ”

“You were snogging Penny Thomas in front of a book I needed!”

“Was I?” he asked innocently.

“Yes! And butterscotch pudding was my favorite, too!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. He chuckled, caught her hands with his.

“Just admit that you didn’t like me. Everyone knew it. Merlin knows I heard about it often enough.”

“You’re a prat. And I didn’t dislike you.”

“You did,” he said, releasing one of her hands and sliding a distinctly toned arm around her thin shoulders. “And as you told Al, I was his friend, not yours.”

“He shouldn’t have told you I said that.”

“Why not? It’s true.”

“It _was_ true,” she mumbled.

“For you it was,” he said, tugging her closer to him. His smile softened and again she felt that melting sensation sweep over her.

She wanted to go back to arguing with him because it was easy and she understood it, but there was a thrum in the air between them now that she didn’t think she could ever forget.

“Here’s the thing, Rose. For our first few years at school, I thought you _were_ my friend at Hogwarts, as much as you were anybody’s. You certainly spent more time with me and Al than any of the bloody Ravenclaw gits from our year. You had breakfast with us nearly every day.”

“But you never – ”

“ _You_ never talked to anybody. You barely talked to Al,” he pointed out. “And if I _did_ talk to you, I got a one word answer and you went back to your books or your bloody dungeon. I couldn’t get you to give me the time of day to save my life. Can you blame me for giving up on trying?”

Rose averted her eyes, unable to stand the calm sincerity in his almost pitying look. She stared at the hand holding both of hers and knew he could feel them clenching into fists. She chewed on the corner of her lip and tried to find the words she needed to explain how Hogwarts had felt to her. “No,” she finally whispered, her voice so soft she wondered if he could hear.

“Rose – ”

“I didn’t handle Hogwarts very well, you see. I wasn’t good at making friends who weren’t my family because they all seemed to want something from me, and I was convinced I couldn’t give it to them. I’d never be as brilliant as my mum or as funny as my dad or as brave as my Uncle Harry or as beautiful and popular as Aunt Ginny. Not that Aunt Ginny isn’t brave and smart and funny, too,” she said quickly because of all her aunts and uncles, Aunt Ginny was her favorite. “Potions were easy. Potions didn’t whisper about me behind my back. Potions didn’t try to get invited to my house for the holidays. Potions I understood. People? People scared me. I was shy and not at all like the rest of my family. By the time I realized maybe the problem was me, it was too late to try to fix things _._ I didn’t dislike you, Scorpius. I just didn’t know how to act around you. You quit trying, so I did too. I thought it was me.”

Scorpius shook his head incredulously.

“I went to all of Al’s ruddy matches and every time you’d see me in the stands and get this _look_ on your face and I always felt so silly. Every time. And I know it sounds ridiculous now, but it was like you couldn’t remember who I was.”

“I knew who you were, Rose.”

With more confidence than she was feeling, she said, “Is this where you tell me you fancied me from afar?”

Scorpius huffed, but he didn’t look embarrassed. “Of course not. I was busy snogging Penny Thomas, wasn’t I?”

“And about a hundred other girls.”

“But,” he said smoothly, letting go of her and crossing his arms. “That’s not to say there weren’t quite a few wank sessions thinking about your legs in those skirts you wore and - ”

“Scorpius!” She elbowed him in his side, choking on a laugh.

He smiled ruefully, then turned suddenly serious. “I noticed you, Rose. You tolerated my presence, and I decided that was good enough. And then we graduated and you just disappeared. We have a mutual best friend and the Kestrals game was the first time I’d seen you in years. I was shocked at how angry I was to see you there and annoyed by how ambivalent you seemed about the whole thing. And then I was more knocked off kilter by how knocked off kilter I was.”

“Al implied me you wanted me to come to a match. I’d never have just shown up if he hadn’t.”

“Al’s a meddler,” Scorpius said. “You know that. And he’s obnoxiously determined when he gets an idea in his mind.”

“An idea?”

He turned her to face him, the hands on her shoulders giving a gentle squeeze. “Al rather got the idea that I _had_ been fancying you in secret.”

Rose shook her head. “But we hadn’t seen each other in — ”

“That’s the crazy thing,” he said. “I hadn’t seen you, but _Al_ saw you all the time, even if it was just at your parents’ house or his. And he talked about you. Constantly.”

“What — ”

“It drove me up the wall. He said I was like a dog with a sausage dangled just out of its reach whenever he mentioned you. I realized a few months before the Kestrals match that he’d been doing it more and more just to wind me up. I told him he’d finally lost it. I guess that’s when he started trying to get you to come to a match. And then I saw you and you looked just like I remembered and having you there was all that I could think about.”

“I don’t understand.”

“That makes two of us,” he said, leaning forward. His lips barely brushed hers. As if he couldn’t quite help himself, he leaned forward a second time and captured her mouth more firmly. When he pulled away, her cheeks were flushed and his eyes were bright. “I might have fancied you a bit at school. I’ll admit it. But, as you know rather too well, I thought I’d got over it. I had, I think. So I didn’t know what to do with myself after seeing you the first time. I knew I’d hurt your feelings, so I sent you the cloak.”

“Which was far too generous,” she said softly.

He ignored her. “I told myself I was so thrilled you came to the next match because it meant Al would finally get off my back about you and we could all be friends the way I’d wanted us to be at school. But then you showed up and sat in my bloody box for the Wasps game, and I just felt like something was happening, something big. Why’d you do it, Rose? I still don’t know.”

“Why’d you tell everyone you would quit Quidditch if my name made it into the papers?”

“I asked first,” he said, and she saw how much her answer mattered in the tense set of his jaw and the now cool distance of his assessing look.

“You deserved to have someone there just for _you_. And…” She tried to gather her thoughts. Nothing could explain the strange tug that pulled her toward Scorpius. She supposed maybe it had always been there, and she’d buried it under her books and potions and imagined slights. But there would be time for what-ifs later, and all she wanted was to be honest with him. “I wanted that person to be me.”

“That,” he said, his voice like a caress, “Is why I told the press to piss off.”

“You can’t seriously mean to give up Quidditch just because – ”

“It wouldn’t be for you,” he said, an unexpected kindness in his voice mingling with the expected defensiveness. “It would be for me. I just want to play Quidditch. It makes me feel free. But that lot? With their cameras and their quills and their entitled questions and the following me about? There’s no freedom in that.”

“So why not take a stand before?” she pressed.

“Because,” he answered, reaching out to take her hands in his again. “It never interfered with getting what I want before.”

“Scorpius – ”

“I’d like to be able to take you out, Rose, and I know I can’t do it with cameras flashing in your face.”

“Why me?” she blurted.

He seemed taken aback by her change of subjects, eyes blinking in confusion. “Why not you?”

“Because you’re an international quidditch star! You’re good looking and – don’t look so pleased, you know that you are – talented and famous and smart and from one of the wealthiest families in Britain and you should be with someone like Lily who – ”

Scorpius tilted his head back and erupted in laughter. She was riveted. She didn’t think she’s ever heard him laugh like that before, and all at once the knots in her stomach untied.

“Lily,” Scorpius said, “is a brat. Have you ever seen her in front of reporters? She _preens_. All she talks about is Quidditch. And gossip.”

“Hey!” Rose said, prepared to defend her cousin, “Lily is – ”

“I don’t fancy Lily. I fancy you. And, though I still don’t really understand how it happened, I’m pretty sure that feeling is mutual.” He paused, seeming to give her a chance to contradict him before he continued. “I’d like to see you again in a context that doesn’t involve Al or Quidditch or Weasleys.”

Flushing, she nodded. “I’d like that, too.”

“Good,” he said, standing and helping her to her feet. “Let’s go heat up the takeaway and start over.”

She turned and brushed her lips across the smooth plane of his cheek. “It’s a date.”

 

 


End file.
